


Wayward.

by TheSlowBurner



Category: Outlast (Video Games), mad max - Fandom
Genre: Cannibalism, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Graphic, Kinda, M/M, Mad Max AU, Other, Outlast AU, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, coarse language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-17 05:16:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12358275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlowBurner/pseuds/TheSlowBurner
Summary: ˈweɪwəd/Submitadjectivedifficult to control or predict because of wilful or perverse behaviour.Waylon hated how he always gave in so easily, and at times, he hated how Miles would always fight back. unfortunately, both of their attributes would get them into deep shit in the middle buttfuck nowhere.





	1. The Horde.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna try and make it as Mad Max-y as possible, even working off a playlist i made for this, and since i adore the Mad Max universe, i really wanna do it justice by listen to some good ol' fashion rock'n'roll (Van Halen, Marilyn Manson, Iron Maiden, all my faves)

It was hot, the sun was scorching more so than usual, or what felt like it. Everyday it was horrible, it felt even worse than the last. There was barely any clouds, or water for that matter. It was hard surviving as a creature that was mostly made up of just that.

Waylon was lucky though, despite him not feeling quite so as he was stuck under the large rust bucket of a jeep, turning knobs and taping loose pipes together. He was in the shade to what he was thankful, considering trees were nowhere in sight, and the deserts roamed the earth, or to what Waylon discovered.

Waylon found most of the problem with the worn down jeep. Of course there were plenty more, but at the moment, he had to fix this one so they could actually keep going, and being stuck in one place in the open desert was sure enough a death sentence.

“I need a Philips!” Waylon cried out from underneath, holding his hand out, to what was usually immediately replied to and his hand would almost magically fill with what he needed. Waylon waited for a moment for his partner, considering he might be distracted or hadn’t heard him. “Miles!?” Waylon cried out again.

Waylon waited again, but instead of the clinking noises of tools, he only heard Miles scuffling about on the dirt, sounding like he was in a hurry. Waylon rolled out from underneath the jeep, first looking for his friend, to which he was bolting from back around the other side with a pair of binoculars.

“Miles wha—” Waylon started but he followed Miles gaze out into the distance and thought he saw a shimmer of something on the dark horizon where night was coming from. Miles narrowed his eyes into the dirt encrusted binoculars, his chapped lips making an odd look as it pulled into a grimace.

“We gotta go…” Miles whispered, it was a smooth sound, a sound when someone tries not to raise alarm, but Waylon knew that tone of voice and felt panic urging on. “What! What do you see?” Waylon tried grabbing for the binoculars but Miles turned away from him and sprinted back to the jeep, tossing the gadget in the back seat through the window and was in the driver seat in mere seconds. “Miles wha--!” Waylon couldn’t stop himself from panicking, but he needed to know, and there was nothing he feared more than the fear of the unknown.

“A HORDE!” Miles cried out over the sound of the jeep screeching to get started. “Miles I still need to--!” Waylon tried to convince his friend he needed more time, but it seemed they needed to make haste as Miles tried the ignition again, and though he cared a lot for his jeep, for their lifeline, he didn’t care what damage would come to an unfinished job.

A Horde to Miles was much worse than losing a few parts to get away. Waylon didn’t bother trying to talk his friend into giving him more time but hopped into the passenger seat, pulling his old raggedy gloves off, and Miles spun off, dirt kicking from the tires as they turned off sharply into any direction that would get them away from the oncoming Horde.

“Shit!” Miles cried out, looking into the side mirror as the Horde was growing in sight. Miles guessed most of their vehicles were V8’s, judging how they gained so fast. Miles pressed the gas pedal down, changing gears desperately and sporadically to gain more speed, but the jeep could only do a measly 190km/h.

“Shit! ShitShitShitShit!” Miles grunted, hitting the steering wheel. Waylon could see the frustration and fear in Miles eyes as he looked desperately into the speedometer. Waylon looked back over his shoulder and his eyes widened, the Horde was no more than 5 clicks back and still gaining, leaving a massive dust cloud behind the menacing dark cars.

“Miles” Waylon spoke, trying not to yell so he wouldn’t bundle up Miles nerves further. Miles was deaf to Waylon’s pleading and Waylon tried again. “Miles! We’re not gonna make it! We have to stop! We can work things out! We can—” Miles met Waylon’s eyes with a horrifying anger and annoyance “WE’RE DEAD WAYLON!”

Waylon shut his mouth and leaned back in his seat, putting his gloves back on and collecting his tool belt from the back seat as he could hear the engine slowly dying from heat exhaustion. They finally rolled to a halt and jerked to a stop.

Waylon looked straight on ahead into the distance, somewhere he could feel safe but soon disappeared as the Horde rounded their monstrous cars around the jeep, toying with them until theirs also came to jolting stop.

Waylon looked over to Miles who looked hauntingly at the steering wheel, hands gripping tight that made his knuckles go white. It was plain Fear over his face as he hunched his lean body over the steering wheel. Waylon even saw a small tear fall from the opposite side of Miles face, “Fuck” he whispered.

Miles was usually the stronger one in situation’s like these, but they usually dealt with smaller Horde’s of about 4 or 5 max. This one consisted of 12 vehicles, 3 motorbikes, and one larger vehicle that rumbled like the earth was cracking beneath it. and each vehicle had at least 3 maniacal looking men housing them.

Most of them stepped out, danced around the jeep, pulling faces of amusement, gesturing death for the poor souls. Waylon grasped Miles shoulder softly over the coarse leather jacket he wore. “Miles…” He whispered softly, trying his best to comfort his friend. Miles loosened his grip and opened the door, wiping the tear from his face.

It looked to Waylon that Miles gained back his confidence and Waylon stepped out the same, but they were both immediately struck in the gut and brought to their knees. They both thought if they made it easy for the Horde, they’d let them go, or better yet die quickly, but that was wishful thinking.

One variant pulled Waylon’s hair, snapping his head back and licked his ear. Waylon tried flinching away but the variant held on tight to Waylon’s head. “You thure are pretty” Waylon met the lunatics eyes and was horrified at the sight. His face looked like something tried to bubble its way out of his forehead and most of his teeth were visible as his lips looked cracked off giving him the lisp.

Waylon would have guessed it was from remnants of radiation or bad genes that gave him this appearance, but thought otherwise when he hasn’t seen any mutations this bad. Waylon scanned his eyes over the rest of them and saw most were disfigured in the same manner. Waylon second guessed his decision to make it easier for them and maybe taking them back and now pieced together that where they came from was too close to a nuclear blast which destroyed most of the world.

Waylon could hear from the other side of the jeep Miles tussling with one of them. Waylon could see from underneath that he had at least three of them on him and envied his courage and fighting spirit where Waylon just gave in.

His attention was brought back to his own assailant as strong hands gripped his throat. “I bet you’d be a _whole_ lot more fun if you were dead though” And licked his lips. Waylon tried kicking to get him off, but he was on his chest like a sack of cement.

Waylon felt his eyes water and the world turn dark as oxygen was being restricted more and more. “ _Waylon!_ ” he could hear Miles scream, Waylon turned his eyes to see Miles was also on the ground getting the shit kicked out of him from all three. Waylon wanted to respond, but thought better that he’d die here. Of course he thought it distasteful that this lunatic was going to have his way with his body afterward, but he would be dead anyway… what’s the point of fighting?

Waylon’s body was going numb and didn’t even feel the rumbling of heavy, titan footsteps that were nearing him until his assailant was scurrying off him like a rat. Waylon could barely make out, but was sure he heard the grotesque man apologise and whimper “Th-Thorry Throngfat”

Waylon sucked in air from his throat and heaved his chest. He was thankful for the shade that came soon after, he rolled over to his side and looked up to a hulking mass. Waylon’s eyes widened and thought maybe choking to death was better than what fate awaited him with this monster.

He was easily 6 ft 8 with a body that matched his very intimidating demeanour. But what Waylon noticed immediately was his face, the old scarring, jagged across the flesh of his face, how his lip split and slanted in one way to show the tops of his right canine, a strong scar in the middle of his forehead, that Waylon could swear he saw his skull through it.

“Get up” He growled and Waylon immediately obeyed. Despite pain still piercing through his body, he leaned against the jeep. Again he was thankful for his size as it blotted out the sun so he didn’t have to narrow his eyes, but he wish he did considering the sight before him.

The gigantic man gruffed and grabbed Waylon forcefully by the back of his neck and pulled him along to the other side of the jeep. Waylon struggled to keep his feet moving, but the hulk didn’t worry as he had an iron grip on his petite neck and lean malnourished body

Waylon could easily guess that this thing was their leader of some sort as once they landed their eyes on him coming around the jeep, they scurried away from Miles, who was now bleeding from his nose and mouth and heaving with ragged breaths.

That low growl of a voice came from him again “Can you walk?” Miles spat out blood and glared at the monstrosity. Waylon was envious that Miles didn’t falter that rebellious look in his eyes and struggled to stand, spitting more blood at the titan’s feet. “Fuck you” He sneered.

Waylon gulped at what would happen to Miles and this time, he didn’t envy his bravery, actually resented it when the titan gripped his neck tight again and dragged him like a ragdoll toward Miles.

The beast of a man struck out a hand to Miles throat and lifted him just as easily as he dragged Waylon through the dirt, even though Miles was a bit more well fed, the chains around his thick wrists jingling, taunting Miles with the delicate sound, as if his neck was just like that delicate metal sound and wouldn’t take much to crunch his bones.

Miles gasped for aire hopelessly and gripped the massive hand around his throat. “Not what I asked” The growl came again which made Waylon flinch just the slightest. Waylon looked into Miles eyes, still seeing that hatred burn there, but as soon as he met Waylon’s pleading eyes, he relaxed his kicking body.

“Ny-Yes” He made out with immense effort. Waylon saw the small horrible smirk on the creatures face, pricking his disfigured lips up so more of his teeth showed. Waylon shivered at the horrible sight. “Good” the creature chimed. He dropped Miles just as easily as he picked him up by the throat and threw Waylon to his feet.

Miles grasped for his throat and Waylon watched as the hulking mass waltz back to his equally massive vehicle. The creature, Strongfat, Waylon made out, stopped before his vehicle, climbed on one of the gigantic tires, hanging onto the rails inside the car and boomed his terrible growl into a menacing howl.

“ _ **BRING THEM BACK UNSCATTHED! BLAIRE’S GONNA WANNA SEE THEM**_ ” And dunked down into the dark, making it rumble to life and spit dirt as it drove past them.

Next thing Miles or Waylon knew, their tucked in a cage in the back of another vehicle with their hands chained. Waylon looked to Miles who looked solemnly out the irons of the cage into the distance. Waylon huffed and leaned against the back of the cage “fuck…” he whispered to himself.


	2. Breeders or Donors?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> could you imagine at one point i was listening to footloose while writing?

“…ake up! Waylon! Wake Up! Waylon! Waylon!!” Waylon felt himself return from a far off land he was lost in. The land was dark and cold, and painful, but as soon as he opened his eyes, he realised that the world he was dreaming of was all too real.

He felt an aching pain in his legs as they were being shaken. Waylon first reacted to Miles hisses in his ears, then to the dull pain as he tried stretching out in the cage he was stashed in. He realised soon that the pain in his legs were from being cramped for what seemed like a millennia, and the coldness was from the early morning bitterness of the desert.

Waylon gazed around to the rusted iron of the crate and bolted his body up, shimmying against the cage and looked around wildly. He jumped at the strong grip Miles had on put on his shoulder and met his eyes with panic.

Miles pursed his lips and understood the fear in Waylon’s eyes and looked about the cage, practically beyond it, unknown where they were since their assailants covered their cages with strange leather about it. “They stopped, but I don’t know for how long” Miles scuffled about the small cage, trying to peer through the small stitching’s of the coarse leather.

Miles sighed and leaned back against the cage. “Miles where are we?” Waylon asked, but he knew that his friend was clueless as well, but hearing it from Miles felt a lot better than hearing it from himself “I don’t know” Miles met Waylon’s eyes.

Soon enough, they were blinded when one of their driver’s ripped the coverings from their cage and the searing light and heat from the sunrise made them wince and flinch from the door of the cage.

“Hands” It was a simple demand, but both of them were hesitant for a moment, considering other possibilities these desert horrors had in store for them. Waylon of course thought the worst and thought maybe they’d cut them off, rendering him completely useless to anything he could offer this _Blaire_ character as mentioned before. But as soon as he saw Miles stick out his hands through the gaps of the irons, he slowly stuck them out as well.

Waylon knew Miles was only complying in empathy for his friend, thinking that maybe playing by Waylon’s rules, they’d get somewhere, but all hope was faded when the creature of a man clamped their wrists in heavy cuffs and chains.

Soon enough they were being dragged out of the cage, despite them not putting up much of an effort for the fiends, they were still treated as if Miles and Waylon were insulting their mother’s the entire time.

They prodded Waylon in the back painfully a couple of times if Waylon would slow his pace to gaze around them, Waylon was a bit thankful since he didn’t want to linger on the sights as they started entering a wildly camp.

Waylon watched as a variant almost like the one before that had him pinned against the earth, was chasing an overgrown rat around the dirt, finally catching it, he squealed with delight and snapped its neck and took a wholesome bite from the thick hide of the awfully mutated rodent.

Waylon cringed at the sight and knew they were getting deeper into the heart of the camp when the residents became much more frequent and livelier. Waylon watched carefully to Miles, who walked hunched over, following obediently another variant that tugged them along with a leather leash, much like the leather over their cage.

Waylon guessed they were closing in on the core when he spotted an oddly polished dome of a cage, contrasting the cage he woke up in. They neared in steadily and Waylon narrowed his eyes on what could have been inside. Waylon spotted a pack of grotesque dogs of no kind of breed Waylon met in the wastes.

They were hairless, fierce and rabid, Waylon would have mistaken them for rats from a distance, but being so close had set a panic in his chest and felt his breaths heave inside his chest and his fear of what was to become of them worsened as he watched them nip at another assailant.

The assailant was desperately trying hard not to get bitten or being jumped over, but he was struggling as blood was smearing into his eyes from a previous blow. As they rounded along the dome, Waylon spotted another poor soul stuck in the cage with the mutts.

Waylon felt something strange about this one and was a bit more hopeful for the man. He was large, burly, and surprisingly unscathed. As they neared to where this miraculously unharmed man was hanging his hands relaxingly on the poles of the large dome, Waylon felt himself flinch at the sight before him and thought maybe he wasn’t so lucky.

The man, Waylon had to admit had a handsome face, almost looking like the wastes had never touched him, until you were assaulted by his deep set scars in his face that looked like he stood a bit too close to a fire, like probably someone sticking his face in one with a boot to the back of his head. There were rash like smears over the right side of his face and long jagged scars in the opposite side that looked like a parody of a cross.

Waylon couldn’t tear his eyes from the man. What really struck out to Waylon was the way his frosty blue hues stared coldly into the distance as he dragged on a rare cigarette. Waylon couldn’t piece together why he had such a cool demeanor, thinking back to the other man stuck in the cage as the dogs paid no attention to _this_ strange man in particular.

Waylon felt himself shrink when those cold piercing eyes set on him and held there for a very long moment. Waylon noticed that the man had an oddly neat slicked back haircut and wondered of this man. Waylon thought that this man, besides for his scars, did not belong in a place like this.

The man’s eyes were hard and cruel, but something even crueller came from them as he winked to Waylon and a devilish smile formed on those thick lips. Waylon furrowed his browse in confusion and felt his pace slow until he was prodded in the back once more for his lack of obedience of keeping a steady pace.

Waylon yelped at the pain and did as he was ordered.

Finally Waylon could feel it, let alone see it. Their small train had approached a tent larger than the rest and Waylon gulped. _This is it… This is the end of the line isn’t it? God… Lisa I’ll see you soon… I’m so sorry Miles_.

\---

They entered the tent with the gust of air of the tent flaps opening for them. Directly to their left, they spotted a very tall and lean man working with a large pair of scissors, cutting something. It was dark as Waylon couldn’t quite make out what, but when a naked, bearded elderly man crossed their paths with a large saucepan in his arms, picking up the pieces the other man was merely tossing to the ground, Waylon felt sick.

_Oh my god. Christ! That’s flesh isn’t it! That’s human fucking flesh. These are cannibals. These are fucking canni--_ the only thing that shut Waylon’s intrusive, panic inducing thoughts was his own mouth vomiting with a sickening ‘urk’ sound. Waylon dry heaved once, but then a yellow liquid with few chunks had came flying out of his throat.

Needless to say, there was little there considering they hadn’t eaten properly in that last few days, but the smell was the worst of it, and Waylon was ready for another round until he heard a strange, almost friendly, charming voice ring out from the depths of the tent.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to dirty the carpet?”

Waylon peered up from his standing foetal position, first meeting Miles worried eyes, his eyes didn’t have fear in them, just that good ol’ spark of rebellion, but the worry was for his friends well being.

They both averted their attention to a relatively well dressed man looming from the shadows.

To say well dressed was a bit comical, especial in this day and age where dressing nice was completely idiotic at best unless you wanted to be gunned down on sight in any case someone would steal your gear.

He wore a complete chest armour that partially covered the shoulders, a pale grey or dirty white hoodie, depending on how you took it considering the human races circumstances, with its sleeves torn off to lead down to fur cladded forearms with that rough leather wrapped around them. Of course, this wasn’t all just aesthetic, Waylon knew better than to judge the appearance of someone nowadays, since everything you wore had a function, to protect or for offence, and Waylon got the latter when a hand that was also cladded in harsh sturdy plastic flew across his face painfully, and Waylon could feel the trail of that harsh leather under his wrist.

Waylon stumbled backwards, unsure what just happened but when he looked to Miles than to the man looming over him, he pieced together that he was just backhanded _very_ hard, that knocked the sense out of him, and ruptured something in his nose as it bled profusely over his lap.

The man had made his way easily over top of Waylon and gripped his bleeding face tight between his fingertips, making his cheeks go pudgy as the man pulled his face up for closer inspection. Again, Waylon thought for the second time today that man couldn’t possible look as relaxed and well-groomed to be living in the wastes as what was before him. Sure enough the man had a bit of a scruff, but his hair seemed to be clipped at precisely the length he wanted and the fashion as well.

If the man wasn’t so daunting, the grin that followed Waylon’s inspection would have been charming, but to Waylon it fuelled the fear inside him as his eyes stared wildly into what seemed to be the leader of the camp, Blaire.

The man let go of Waylon, well more so tossed him back to the ground as he approached Miles. The man, Blaire, Waylon guessed, had looked Miles up and down without much thought, not bothering inspecting his face as closely as he did Waylon’s. Though he did lean in closer to Miles and Miles was quick to react.

Like the dogs Waylon saw in that silver dome, Miles snapped his jaws at the man, Blaire, the man simply smiled back and waltzed back to a space he was waiting before. “You’d make great dogmeat, wolf man” The man chimed to Miles. Miles could feel the words _fuck you_ burn at the end of his tongue, but was reminded that he didn’t want to worsen their situation and already tested his luck with a small reaction to the man’s horrid stare.

The man snapped his fingers toward them and huffed “Alright. Undress. Time to get a closer look.” Waylon had to blink a few times to wonder if he heard right, and once he realised he did hear the man correctly, he wondered _A closer look?_ again, more wood onto the fire of fear as he looked wildly around to watch Miles and see what he’d do.

The man, Blaire, sighed with annoyance and darkened his stare on the two newcomers “I’m not a very patient man, and I don’t like repeating myself guys.” It sounded too amicable as Waylon stared wide eyed at the man, he knew those words were anything but, and judging by the state of the inhabitants of his camp, he didn’t want to press his luck.

So, Waylon began undressing, first starting with the leather chest piece he wore that saved his life on countless times, leaving that to drop to the floor as he undid the buckles and lifted his scruffy stained white shirt over his head. Once his chest was bare and measly looking, malnourished from days without proper food or water, he looked to Miles and begged with his eyes to comply, but Miles kept on staring defiantly at the man, not breaking eye contact.

The man grinned as he kept his eyes fixed on Miles, triumphant as the smaller man undressed willingly while the other stood his ground. “All of it” The man chimed, mostly to Waylon. Waylon tensed at the words and sunk his head down. Would he do it, strip himself of all dignity for the sake of surviving? He knew Miles wouldn’t, Miles was a Road Warrior, rebellious, heroic, to which also rubbed so wholesomely onto Lisa, Miles sister. How he envied them of their bravery. So would he do it? Of course.

Waylon untied his old mechanic jumpsuit from his waist, undid the buckle of his tool belt and felt the heavy fabrics drop form his waist. Waylon felt like crying, but this he did not do, he already felt pathetic by giving in so easily, he didn’t want to stoop so low as to pity himself for his own undoing.

Waylon gulped down a sob and shook the remnants of his clothing from his feet and cupped his privates in his cuffed hands. The metal was cold against his pubic area and Waylon shivered. He felt so small and vulnerable, worst yet, he felt rotten when he could feel that man’s gaze move past Miles on to him.

The man kissed his teeth condescendingly and Waylon knew exactly what he was upset with, so Waylon let go of his privates with shaky hands and let himself dangle in the cool air of the tent. “That’s better” The man cooed to Waylon. Waylon didn’t want to, but his eyes deceived him and felt a hot tear roll down his cheek.

Soon enough the man’s voice rang out in a parody of pleasantness as he kept his greedy eyes fixed on Waylon, “Looks like your friend here is gonna need some help sweet stuff” Waylon darted his eyes up to meet the mans and moved to Miles who still stood defiantly still, his shoulders stiff and upright, trying his best not to give a whiff of fear to these fierce predators.

The man finally forced his eyes away and turned his back to them to fix a drink with a surprisingly intact bottle and a crystal glass. He poured the glass with a sickly sweetly brown liquid and took a sip, pulling his lips down to the warm feeling and snapped his fingers. “Trager!” He called out. They waited in silence and he kissed his teeth “Organic Mechanic!”

They all waited, Waylon didn’t want to guess who that was, but he had a pretty good idea and too quickly had the man from before, pulling apart a human body like it was a stack of hay had strutted in with a spring in his step and those same bloodied scissors in hand. Waylon felt that nauseating feeling wave over him again and did his best not to look directly into the skeletal man’s hands that carried those cursed tools.

The man pointed with an open hand for demonstration to Miles and frowned “Our friend here has trouble getting out of his clothes, be a dear and help him out ol’ pal.” The Organic Mechanic, Trager, bounced to Miles, and although Waylon couldn’t see it exactly, but could feel that horrid smile underneath that teared and soiled surgical mask. “oooh, with pleasure buddy.”

Waylon shut his eyes tight as Trager opened his tyrannical scissors and closed them again with a sharp ‘snip’. When Waylon didn’t hear Miles cry out in pain he opened his eyes again and looked about Miles, trying to see if any body parts fell off, or any blood spilled about the floor, releasing his breath he was relieved it was just Miles leather jacket that thudded flatly to the floor, and another snip came, this time, it took a few to fully drop Miles pants.

Not long after, Trager leaned back and trailed his eyes along Miles lean frame, and Waylon could see that small glint of wonder in his eyes and felt his stomach churn again, and he could have sworn he saw that surgical mask puff about with a faint whisper escape those horrible lips “…perfect…”

Waylon watched Trager travel his ghostly eyes over Miles forms and teared them away to make of Trager’s reaction to Blaire, only to shift in his nakedness and near darkness with the little lighting in the tent illuminating them to find Blaire was already staring _very_ intently on Waylon. Waylon could practically feel Blaire’s eyes on his skin as if he were touching him himself with his fingertips.

Waylon wanted to cover himself again, but he saw that small disapproval eyebrow raise and Waylon let his hands go limp. But the one thing Waylon did do to relieve his shame, was merely avert his eyes.

“Well, what do you think Richie? Breeders or donors?” That sickly pleasant and smooth voice suggested. Trager howled with laughter, holding his stomach with the hand that held the scissors. “Ha! Good one Jer… Breeders” But his awful croaky laughter was subsided when he saw Blaire’s reaction “Oh you’re serious…. Well, this one’s a bit too healthy to be a receiver, and none of the boys here I don’t think are too keen on being a bottom… and the dainty one looks as though he could go with a good few meals, and after that… well, no problem in getting the right cushion for the pushin’”

Now it wasn’t Blaire’s stare this time that made Waylon’s skin crawl, but the empty, cold calculating stare of Trager as he tilted his head to look at him. Trager pointed with his scissors to Waylon “Breeder” and then pointed his large tool to Miles with a disappointing look “Donor”.

Waylon knew of course what they meant when those designated roles rang in his ears, _breeder_ was a bit ironic, since Waylon knew he couldn’t reproduce like a woman, but it was more so the fact that he’d have to be at someone’s hungry mercy and his heart panged in his chest. Unfortunately, it was when Trager pointed those god awful tools to Miles and declared him a _Donor_ , to which they’d pull him apart, even maybe still alive as they did so.

Waylon’s heart jumped out of his chest for the fate of his friend and his body jerked free from the hands of a variant from the chains and looked desperately to Blaire. “Wait! Please!” Waylon cried out. He wasn’t even registering what he was begging for, but his mouth had said the words before he could take in the consequence of what he was offering.

“I’m an engineer! A mechanic! I can be of use to you! I’ll do anything, please! Just let my friend live!” Waylon knew it would either go his way, or there would be sever repercussions in speaking out, but maybe there was a little fight that rubbed off from Miles as he battled for his friends life.

Fear had stricken him again when Blaire’s eyes set on him yet again with a sly grin that only meant ill will. That oddly charming grin split to show teeth and he darkened his look to Waylon. “You two are awful troublesome aren’t you. What’s your name?” the question was simple but Waylon could feel his tongue tying and cursing what he got himself into.

“W-Waylon… Waylon Park..” he stuttered. Blaire’s smile grew darker. “Well, Mr. Park. I’ll accept what you’re offering. But if you ever speak out again…” Blaire took another sip from the drink and pointed to the chair in the corner of the room beside Trager’s table. “Trager? If you will.”

Waylon, again couldn’t see it, but he could feel Trager’s smile as he grabbed Miles shoulder. Miles jerked away and head butted Trager. Trager cursed Miles and tried at him again, but Miles was evasive of his attempts. Waylon watched as the variants struggled Miles to comply. Blaire kissed his teeth and dropped that smooth voice and boomed with a demanding tone passed them “ _ **GET WALKER IN HERE!** _”__

__Not long after of Miles struggled was he wholly hoisted over large shoulders with that familiar jingle of chains. Waylon watched with wide eyes as his friend was cursing at the much larger male carrying him to the chair. Waylon pleaded with his eyes to Miles, but he could feel Miles cut daggers in him with those piercing green eyes._ _

__Miles was practically dropped in the chair and quickly bound. Strongfat, or Walker had smacked Miles cheek playfully and stood behind Waylon, placing a strong hand on his shoulder in case Waylon tried something. Waylon pondered at why he’d need it, but there wasn’t much left to the imagination when Trager approached with his large scissors._ _

__“Now… if I get any more of your cute little back chatting. I’ll make an example of your friend here.” Blaire pointed to Miles while keeping Waylon’s eyes stuck there like a deer caught in headlights._ _

__Trager opened his scissors, grasping gently and eloquently on Miles bounded hands. Miles tryied balling them, but the confines of heavy leather straps prevented them any further to crinkle down in size. Trager gracefully slipped Miles his index finger between the shears, and with a smooth ‘snip’, it plopped to the floor with a nauseated solidness that made Waylon whoozy. But it was the screams that were the worst of it._ _

__Waylon wanted to beg to stop but when he met Blaire’s eyes again, they were purely evil, waiting for him to speak out again, and Waylon tried his luck “PLEASE!” Blaire smiled, waiting for another cry as he nodded to Trager again, and Trager continued to take off fingers, next was his ring finger, and again the precise ‘snip’ and it fell to the floor. Miles tried holding back a scream by clenching his jaw and groaning, trying not to give them the satisfaction, but goddamn, did it hurt._ _

__It was burning hot pain, shooting up his arm and making it ache, he tensed his whole body, making his abdomen sore. Miles still looked defiantly to Trager as the ‘doctor’ leaned back to appreciate his work._ _

__Waylon tried not watching as the blood spittled down to the floor from Miles trembling hands. Ironically, they were _kind_ enough to cauterise it with a nearby by blow torch, but it didn’t stop Waylon as he heaved and sobbed, covering his mouth and nose from the smell’s that dwindle in the air, trying not to beg more as he fell to his knees._ _

__Blaire approached Waylon, crouching to his level and pinched his chin, lifting it to make Waylon look at his friend then him. “shhh… Mr. Park. You understand don’t you. I run a very tight camp here and I can’t have anyone speaking out against me. Nod if you understand?” Waylon looked to Blaire, tears rolling down his cheeks, dumbfounded, incoherent by what was happening before him. he never dreamed things could get as bad as they were getting._ _

__Blaire tightened his grip on Waylon’s jaw, making it creak, “ _I told you I don’t like repeating myself Mr. Park._ ” Waylon nodded eagerly, Blaire smiled at that and gently wiped a tear rolling down Waylon’s cheek, and something much more sinister stirred behind those dark blue eyes of Blaire’s. “That’s a good boy.”_ _

__“Now… Walker if you will…” Blaire turned his back to them and finished his drink and returned to the darkness of the tent._ _

__Waylon peered over to Miles once again, and Miles was lolling his head back and forth, trying his damned hardest not to pass out. Walker jerked the chain around Waylon’s wrist and hoisted Miles over his shoulders with ease, as if both men were nothing in weight to him and travelled across the camp, near that shiny dome and entered a small shack establishment._ _

__Waylon’s mind was buzzing, it was numb, and barely any consciousness was left in his eyes. He was barely aware that he heard the howls and barking of those same horrible dogs from beforehand until he was thrown in a cage beside them, much like they woke up in, but larger, as if it was meant to house people._ _

__Waylon huddled to the corner of the cage and watched as Walker lightly placed Miles down on the ground. Waylon watched intently as Walker inspected Miles wounds. Waylon narrowed his eyes and thought he saw some glimmer of concern from Walker for his friend, but tossed that thought aside, thinking that maybe Walker would tend to them caringly, only for Walker to march out of the dog shack without giving Waylon a glance._ _

__Once he felt like Walker’s presence, or anyone else for that matter, was gone, Waylon jammed himself up against the cage next to him and tried to reach for Miles, once he knew he couldn’t reach him physically, he tried with his voice, afraid if his friend passed out, that would be the end of him, the end of both of them._ _

__“Miles” Waylon hissed, in case Blaire’s condition still stood, he didn’t want to raise the attention of the other’s, but he tried again, more concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. “ _Miles!_ ” he tried again, much louder this time. Miles hummed in response, his olive skin, going a sickly and unnatural pale from all that had happened._ _

__Waylon sighed that his friend still had some reaction to his calling and he leaned back into his own cage. “please… please stay awake… I don’t want to be alone… I know that’s so selfish of me, all of this is… but please for the love of everything that’s still good in this world… I’m so afraid.”_ _

__Waylon felt himself tighten into a foetal position against the cage, his arms wrapping around his bare legs as he felt those burning sobs rise from his throat, his pale, shivering, frail frame feeling so cold and small in the large cage. He felt truly fucked, like all hope was lost._ _

__It wasn’t until he heard the shifting of Miles that he unwound himself from his disparity, he watched his friend with worry as Miles struggled. He grunted a few times as he shimmied up the cage. “I’m not dead yet you ass” Miles hissed in pain._ _

__Waylon blinked for a second and started cackling, he couldn’t help it. Miles always stayed defiant, even in the face of death apparently. Waylon couldn’t stop his laughter, despite his eyes saying something different as they poured themselves out with tears. Of course, it was going to be Miles the one to make Waylon laugh in such a despaired situation._ _

__Unfortunately, his laughter had caught the attention of one of the variants or so he thought, when the doors opened with a horrible groaning. The figure skulked in with strange fabric in his hands. He opened the cages rapidly and tossed them rags._ _

__“Blaire doesn’t want his breeders getting sick, so rug up” and left as quickly as he came. Waylon looked for a moment at the rags, unfolding them to find they were clothing for the two males. It was odd at how well they fitted, and how comfortably as well._ _

__Waylon looked to Miles who was trying hard not to let the garments touch his fresh wounds. Waylon urged Miles closer after Miles put the make shift trousers on, and teared a piece off his own sleeves. He wrapped the fabric around his friends fingers tight. Miles winced at the pain, but was glad for now that it would cease the bleeding somewhat and stop most infections but dreaded it wouldn’t be enough, but it would suffice._ _

__Miles completed putting the garments on and pretty much fell back down to seat against the cage. He sighed and felt his eye lids grow heavy and soon enough, he felt like he could sleep knowing at least his wounds were covered._ _

__Waylon on the other hand, felt no such mercy as sleep. He watched his friend with wild eyes, his heart beating in his chest so hard it made a rumbling in his throat. Waylon was afraid if someone would come back, but he was more afraid that if they came back, Miles would be stuck in an eternal sleep._ _

__It was as if Miles read his mind as he squinted one eye open to glare at Waylon “I’m not going anywhere Way. I’m just resting my eyes… don’t worry, I’m ok.” Waylon tried relaxing at his words and sat down the same way as Miles, but sleep would never reach him. As time went on, Waylon glanced over occasionally to his friend to make sure his breathing didn’t stop, and sighed with relief every time he’d watch that steady rise and fall in his friend’s chest._ _

__Waylon didn’t know how much time passed, but all that he could make out was that it was still dark out when he heard scuffling outside long after the camp started to grow more silent. It sounded like a group of men dragging something in the dirt, or rather, trying to as they grunted, and the sounds started to become more coherent and Waylon pieced they were fighting something._ _

__Not long after, the sounds started to come closer and closer to the shack and the door was ripped open by one variant and he quickly darted back to the group just outside, then Waylon heard it, the source of their troubles. “Filthy sacks of shit! Get your hands off me! You’re nothing! I’ll rip your goddamn entrails out!”_ _

__Waylon watched with full attention, pulling his feet closer to him and tightening his arms about his knees. Waylon’s attention was piqued when that same man from the dome winking at him was kicking and jerking in the grasp of five men who were struggling with great effort to get him inside a cage. He was large, and being shirtless made him look even larger as his muscles tensed and rippled under his skin from the attempts to get the other’s off._ _

__Finally, one of them gave the man a good hit at the back of the head with a blunt item and the man seemed to stagger. They used the opportunity to whip open the cage on the other side of Waylon and threw him in._ _

__The man landed on the ground with a hard grunt and wobbled back to his feet, slamming against the door as they locked it, swinging the key in their hands and laughing about each other with relief, as if they escaped near death. “Have fun Mr. Groom!” The man headbutted the cage with great force at the name, leading a trail of blood to tear down his scarred face as he called out after them. “ _ **I’ll get every single one of you! Just you fucking wait you filthy fucking whores!**_ ”_ _

__Waylon watched as the man hobbled away from the door, touching the back of his head to inspect it, disregarding his own self-inflicted wound on his forehead. He cursed under his breath and paced about the cage. Growling it seemed, not even acknowledging Waylon’s gaze as he watched the other man with great attention. Afraid even though the bars between them felt unbreakable._ _

__The man rubbed his face and slammed against the cage before he slid down to a seated position. He was only a few feet away from Waylon, but Waylon could smell that distinct smell of raw alcohol seeping from him._ _

__Waylon felt a tension cease in the man as he started to take long huffs of breaths to calm his nerves. He stared blankly to the ceiling, as if he was counting, Waylon in the meanwhile, was etching his eyes across his skin, across the scars that fitted so well into his flesh._ _

__Waylon didn’t know, but he felt it would be easy talking to this man, considering he was also a prisoner, and they shared the same fate, which eased Waylon’s nerves the slightest. “Well, at least you’re not stuck with one of those mutts.” Waylon spoke out._ _

__The man whipped his head to Waylon, it was clear that he hadn’t noticed him until now, but those icy blue eyes sent a chill all through Waylon and second thought his ease toward this man._ _

__The man’s eyes turned from a sinister stare to half lidded, indicating he was still quite intoxicated. He pricked his finger out and curled it for Waylon to come closer, looking as though he wanted to share something with Waylon, luring him to tell him a plan._ _

__When Waylon did shift to scoot the tiniest bit closer, still wary, but oddly trusting to the man, he regretted it immediately. The man snatched the scruff of fabric at the collar of Waylon’s shirt and pulled him with great strength toward his cage._ _

__Waylon felt panic overwhelm him again as he was crammed up against the cage, feeling sweat form at the top of his brow, despite the cold damp air, unyielding in the night. The man took a big whiff of Waylon, closing his eyes, curiously to Waylon he thought he saw the man’s eyes roll to the back of his head as if Waylon was the most delectable thing he’s ever smelt._ _

__Waylon was frozen under the man’s grasp, firstly because he couldn’t really move from the position the man had him against his cage, but also, he didn’t want to worsen his situation if the man tried anything else to Waylon’s struggles._ _

__Waylon didn’t want to make enemies, not amongst other prisoners anyhow, and felt his heart jump in his throat when he tried to squeak out to make an ally instead. “I-if we work together we can all get out, get away from this horrible pl-place”. It felt like Waylon hadn’t meant the words, considering how his voice trembled, but he was desperate for any hope._ _

__However, that hope was extinguished when the man snapped his eyes opened with a wicked grin. “What makes you think I want to escape?” Waylon gulped, the click in his throat loud, as those eyes stared to the depths of his being, how pale and ghostly they looked as the man’s grin widened to Waylon’s reaction._ _

__“Oh… I know what Blaire has planned for you. That Bastard!” The man spat, looking away as he did, as if he shouldn’t be setting eyes on Waylon, as if he were someone else’s possession. The man felt like he loosened his grip, and Waylon was getting ready to slink back to the corner of his cage until the man snapped him back up against his cage, his face little too close as he mapped his frosty eyes over Waylon’s frail form as it shivered against the irons._ _

__Waylon felt that ashamed feeling wave over him, his gaze was exactly like Blaire’s when Waylon was stark naked in his tent, hungry, predatory, wanting. The man’s lips pricked up in a smile, that, in any other circumstance, it would have been harmless, but the words that followed suggested things Waylon never wanted to think about. “You’re just his type, soft. Delicate. Scared.”_ _

__The man held Waylon there for a couple of moments longer, until he released his collar with sudden force that made Waylon fall on his ass back in his own cage. Waylon grunted, and the Man sank back to his seat against the cage walls._ _

__The man sighed and eased, again Waylon felt an odd relaxing attraction to the man, despite him threatening Waylon, he didn’t feel any falter in the man’s compliance to talk, and he did just that. “Blaire has a function for everyone here. If you don’t have any function, he has no use for you. You would have glanced it first hand darling. Trager, or the organic mechanic, the doctor. Strongfat, or Walker is one of Blaire’s attack dogs, nice enough fellow. We haven’t had a mechanic here yet though. And from what I judge by all the black smears you’re just that. Truthfully, he has this project in his tent, the Walrider, are what the whispers call it. supposed to be his magnum opus of V8’s.”_ _

__Waylon felt his hopes pick up and thought maybe they would survive this mess as the man explained the nature of the camp. He hadn’t noticed Miles trying to listen as he pressed himself against Waylon’s cage. “What about escape? Is there any holes in the security of the camp?” Miles croaked out. Waylon peered around to Miles, his eyes not glancing to Waylon as he stared intently to the man._ _

__The man looked to the both of them, but rested his eyes on Waylon, a wolfish smile stretching on his lips. “There’s no escaping here darling. There’s no security, but you’d be lucky getting through the camp without being stopped by one of those degenerates. And even if you did, once they knew you were gone, these hounds would get to you before you get four clicks away, tear you to pieces, the screams are the worst of it. The record is six.”_ _

__Waylon felt his eyes drop, feeling completely defeated at the thoughts of being mauled apart by those mutant dogs._ _

__All of their attention and thoughts were changed when they heard that familiar groaning of the door opening and those familiar heavy steps enter. It was Walker. Miles peered at him with angry eyes and Waylon tried to huddle toward the back of the cage more. Walker looked over to Miles, gazing at his covered wounds and grunted._ _

__He walked with those jingles of chains taunting them, as they all remain seated in their cage, except the other prisoner. He stood up and approached the door, hanging his hands through the holes of the iron. Walker approached him, unlocked the door and the man stepped back obediently._ _

__Walker handed him a small lump of leather’s and Waylon narrowed his eyes. It was odd how compliant the man had become, either it was because he was afraid of Walker as well or…._ _

__The man smiled his devilish grin as he set his eyes over the layers of raven leather, studded with silver spikes. His attention was brought back to Walker “One little piggy escaped.” Walker’s voice sounded like a whisper, but came out as a low rumble, very much like the engine of his vehicle._ _

__Waylon watched with attentive eyes, unsure of what was happening. Waylon had few possibilities running through his head, one of them hoped that this prisoner either got promoted, which raised his hopes that maybe a fate like that could await him, or that the man was never a prisoner._ _

__The man dressed in his leather cladding, strapping few bits of armour on his left shoulder, two plates of armour on his thighs and a cup for his privates. He looked back to Waylon with a fiery and lunatic gaze as he collected leashes for the yapping houdns, leaning against Waylon’s cage. “Why would you want to run when I’m on the prowl?” and winked before he collected the dogs who seemed only obedient to him._ _


	3. Lay Your Weary Head To Rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i haven't posted in a while, but Motley Crue has helped me a lil bit with a few chapters.

Waylon tried getting sleep, but he was in and out, feeling like he only rested his eyes, and his body refusing to relax as adrenaline was pumping through it. Unknown to where they were, not that it mattered since Miles and him wandered for so long, Waylon thought bitterly that at least they stopped roaming and ended up _somewhere_.

After Waylon’s twenty third attempt at resting his eyes, he forced them open to stare through the little light pooling in from the doors as Dawn was nearing. He lolled his head to the side to glance toward Miles who slept soundlessly on the cold hard ground. Waylon crooked his mouth into a failed attempt at a smile, but what else could he do? He was glad his friend was still breathing, even a bit envious that he could considering his wounds and their situation.

It wasn’t until the sound of whimpering and wheezing came from beyond the door did Waylon feel tired when his body felt too exhausted to cower in the corner anymore. He watched with tired eyes, feeling the bags under his eyes as light flooded in as the man, the _prisoner_ from before, practically ripped the door open.

The man’s shoulders were stiff and his face was dark. He was gritting his teeth, and to say he wasn’t happy was an understatement. Waylon heard the man rumbling under his breath as he dragged the dogs back in their cages, all bloodied, and Waylon could have sworn there was few less then there was before they left.

“…Filthy fucking tramp… The whore took one of my mutts… slayed them…. Fucking….” Once the man hung the leashes he paused. Contemplating before he spun on his heels and hung his arms through the irons of the cage to stare at Waylon. And that’s all he did. Stare.

Waylon squirmed under the man’s gaze, trying his darned hardest not to meet those ghostly eyes as they peered at him, there was nothing in particular in them, jus calculating, cold, and wanting.

The man sighed and opened Waylon’s cage slowly. Waylon could have been mistaken, but he could have sworn he saw a solemn look on the man’s face as he swung the door open and stuck an arm out for Waylon to follow. But Waylon understood when the man spoke again, his voice low and just as solemn as his face “Blaire wants you.”

Waylon felt his breath hitch and his body tense, aching as it did so. Waylon didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay in this cage forever, but that wasn’t his fate as the man marched in Waylon’s cage, sighing in annoyance. Waylon tried squeezing against the corner more, but it was of no use. The man pulled him to his feet from the collar of his garments and pressed him against the cage forcefully.

Oddly enough, it didn’t hurt, it was as if the man was being careful on Waylon’s frame, and felt an even odder sensation as the man pressed his knee in Waylon’s inner thigh, pressing his body closer to Waylon’s, and Waylon could feel the heat sear from the man’s body, through the leather even as the man held him there.

Waylon held his breath as the man moved his face closer, his breath falling on the skin of Waylon’s neck. Waylon could have sworn he felt the man shudder against him as he did so. From the beginning Waylon didn’t want to stare at the man’s scars, but now it seemed to be the only thing he kept his eyes on as the man’s eyes were lowered, Waylon didn’t want to know where, but he wished he would have kept them there when the man’s icy blue eyes snapped up to Waylon’s.

Waylon was terrified that the man had more in store than Blaire and felt his palms go sweaty, until he heard the shuffling of Miles and darted his eyes to his friend. “Well then, along with you, freak, tell Blaire to _Fuck off_. Sincerely, from the wolf man.”

Waylon shut his eyes tight, thinking that Miles little outburst would gain him an assault from the man pinning him against the cage, but no punch in the gut or backhand ever came. Instead, he felt the man’s body loosen from his and tilt toward Miles cage, but that dark look returned from when he entered.

“Would you rather I take your friend here to Blaire? So he can tell him himself?” The man’s voice was flat and cold, no hint of amusement, but the smile on his lips said otherwise. Miles looked to Waylon with those pleading honey eyes, daring not to say a word, and he hated the way Miles stared at the man with those fiery eyes. “Go ahead asshole”

The man gritted his teeth and was loosening his grip on Waylon’s collar, and Waylon knew what awaited Miles if the man did bring him instead of Waylon. Waylon snatched the man’s hand to keep it at his neck and yelped. “No! Take me! I’ll go!”

The man froze, he first stared at Waylon’s hand on his than slowly trailed his eyes to Waylon’s. It was a look of amazement, as if god had touched the man’s hand and not a measly outlander. The man blinked away this dumbfounded look and touched Waylon’s face with such softness Waylon felt sick at it’s parody of the loving touch. The man’s smile returned with a strange pride “That’s a good girl.”

In mere seconds, the man had Waylon over his shoulders and carried him with ease out of his cage and toward the exit. Waylon gave Miles one last look, he wanted to show he was going to be alright, but Miles worried gaze didn’t quite give him that.

Miles leaned back against his cage and slid down to sit. “Fucking hell Waylon…” He hissed to the air. He wasn’t disappointed in his friend, he just cursed his friends willingness to sacrifice himself, thinking it was all in compensation for his sister’s death along with her children.

Miles knew Waylon wasn’t a fighter, roaming the wastes with him wasn’t easy, considering his lack of enthusiasm when looting, saying how it was wrong, and Miles would lecture him if they didn’t do it, they couldn’t survive. He just wished his friend had more of a will to live.

Miles sat there for a good few moments, unable to count the minutes that went by before he thought he should take a closer look at the cages lock, being in a better mind with rest, especially with his wounds. He tried at the lock a couple of times, seeing if there were any loose hinges, or better yet any means of defence if they ever did escape from the cages.

He jiggled the padlock a couple of times, tugging at them and finally tried ramming his shoulder into the doors but nothing budged. He tried another couple of times, this time it pain tremored through his body and even sent a shock of pain to his fingers and he winced.

Miles held the bandaged index finger and cursed, but his attention to his wound was averted when he heard heavy footsteps fall at the door to the shack. Miles could barely make out the frame, but there was no mistaking. It was the Strongfat fellow, Walker.

The tall bulk of a man entered and approached Miles cage with few strides and turned his back toward it, leaned against it, and sank to his bottom. He sighed, which sounded more like a growl and lolled his head back against Miles cage.

Miles watched him with narrowed eyes and wondered what this titan had in mind for him, feeling his relaxed presence was too conspicuous. And Miles felt even more confused when Walker spoke with that deep guttural voice. “I’m sorry about your fingers.”


	4. Familiarity.

Miles had to blink a few times if the hulk of a man apologised, the man who had him in a chokehold with no remorse prior to getting to the camp, the man who helped the others get him in that chair.

Miles sneered at those thoughts, and came forward the slightest, keeping his guard up as to not make the same mistake Waylon did in getting too close to these _people_. “How about you let me out of this cage and give me back my jeep and we’ll call it even”. Strongfat, Walker, scoffed at the idea, his chuckles rattling the whole cage.

Walker half turned his head with an unconvincing smile, churning those scarred lips to show more teeth than there should have been. “You really don’t want The Groom after you. Believe me. Even I get the shivers.”

This piqued Miles interest and shuffled the slightest closer. How could someone smaller, not by all the much but considering, make this monster of a man the least bit scared. Miles thought against asking these questions, in any case it might upset Walker, but he pressed on the other man’s nickname. “The Groom?”

Walker gave out another unamused chuckle. “well… He’s usually known to fuck his breeders until their dead. _literally_. He’s adamant on starting a family on his own…. But the real reason it bothers him, the nickname is because, well… he once _had_ a pregnant wife. And the way he’s tried telling me… is that it was his fault they died. And he’s gone a bit insane… from loss, from the wastelands, whatever the fuck it is. It got to him.”

Miles leaned back against the cage and stared upward, contemplating the similarities between The Groom and Waylon, but feared the worst for his friend.

\---

The man set Waylon down comfortably, making sure his chains wouldn’t get tangled in his armour as he did so and stood forward to that familiar darkness of the previous tent. Waylon could only see the embers go out from what he guessed was a cigarette when Blaire stepped from the shadows, with that sly grin over his face that seemed to never leave it, being lit and only distinguishable from the litter of light that shone through the hems of the tent and few dingy lightbulbs. In turn, Waylon could feel his stomach flip before the man.

“You can wait outside Gluskin” Blaire husked from the near darkness in that all too pleasant tone. The man, Gluskin, Waylon could feel, lingered, unsure. He stood for a moment longer until Blaire’s features ran cold to the man behind Waylon. Waylon could hear a kiss of teeth and the heavy footfalls of the man leaving the tent.

In an odd sense, Waylon didn’t want the man to go, seeing how he showed some form of rebellion against Blaire, to which Waylon could only feel sinister emitting from him.

Blaire waltzed toward Waylon, a drink in hand, swirling the brown liquid with a devious smile on his lips. “Seems like Gluskin has a bit of liking to you Mr. Park.” Waylon at first was confused, thinking of who he was talking of, but soon pieced together who Gluskin was.

Blaire now stood in front of Waylon, standing a good four inches taller and gulped down his drink, his dark eyes never leaving Waylon’s. Waylon tried averting his eyes, but the feeling of Blaire’s sight trekking his body had made him squirm where he stood, shifting from one foot to the other bashfully, which seemed to only fuel Blaire’s amusement as he sat in the same chair they had placed Miles.

Blaire slapped one of his thighs, setting the glass to the side and smiled wickedly to Waylon. “Alright then. Let’s see what you got.” Waylon only stared, confusion returning as he stared at Blaire from the darkness, the little light he gained from the blearing sun from the hemming of the tent.

It was only until Blaire sighed and curled a finger for Waylon to urge him closer. Waylon gulped and did so. He stopped a good few feet from between where Blaire’s legs spread. Blaire’s smile disappeared which made Waylon gulp again. “On your knees Mr. Park.” Was all he said.

To this point, Waylon knew exactly what Blaire wanted. Waylon closed his eyes tight and let himself sink onto the rough ground. He didn’t want to open them, he didn’t want to have to take anymore demands from this man, but Blaire’s next motion had made Waylon whimper and yelp when Blaire Swiped at Waylon’s tussled blonde hair, pulling his face into his crotch.

Waylon couldn’t help the tears start to fall, even a cry came out of his whimpering mouth before Blaire’s grasp loosened. Blaire tossed Waylon back in the dirt and kissed his teeth. Once Waylon gained his footing again he stared with wild eyes to the man, Blaire had simply propped an arm on the rest and skimmed his fingers over his lips with calculating eyes.

It made Waylon shiver as Blaire’s eyes were simply glued to Waylon, contemplating, thinking, and Waylon certainly did not want to know what. Blaire huffed a breath and stood again, fixing himself another drink. “I suppose you’d need a bit of training for that, or time to get used to what your position is here Mr. Park. I’ll let you off this once. _Just_ this once.” Blaire pointed a finger toward Waylon in warning, but that sly smile returned, which made Waylon go cold all over.

“But disobey or hesitate again, and I’ll bring your friend in here.” Blaire swung the drink back and finished it in seconds. Once he slammed the glass down, he marched toward something that was under a raggedy tarp and tore it off. Blaire presented a vehicle before Waylon.

“In the meantime, you have until morning to fix this little project of ours up… else I find another use for you.” Blaire walked back to Waylon in easy strides, tossing a set of keys about in his hand and Waylon took this as a cue that he’d have full use of his hands again and jumped to his feet.

Blaire fiddled with the lock on Waylon’s wrists. Once his hands were free, Waylon didn’t take a second to rub at the raw flesh that was beginning to irritate from the chains, but his eyes were forcefully brought back up when Blaire snatched his jaw and forced it upwards.

Waylon winced at the pain, but didn’t dare close his eyes as Blaire hissed at him. “Hope you’re a better mechanic than breeder Mr. Park, ‘cause I’d love to skullfuck that pretty face of yours.” A second later Blaire let him go and walked around him toward the exit.

Waylon grabbed at the soreness in his jaw and trembled at the words, nearly to the point of sobbing but held it in as Blaire called out once more as he held the tent flap open. “Oh and Park.” Waylon spun around, his hands never leaving his jaw as he stared at Blaire through teary eyes. “Don’t fuck this up” Blaire gave him a wink before he let Gluskin inside, to which Waylon guessed it was a guard, and left the entry.

Waylon’s gut did flips and turns as those words plastered in his mind, but he soon dismissed them as he was given a task to show him some kind of mercy. He urged his body onward, despite his knees buckling from the fear in his heart. Once he was by the charcoal vehicle, he supported himself against, feeling his body would give out and become a pathetic mess of sobbing.

Waylon sucked in a breath and gazed around, blinking the tears away and spotted the man leaning against a post near the doorway. Waylon felt his voice fail him as he tried to speak out toward the man. “D-do you… A-are The-ere tools around?”

The man, Gluskin, pushed himself from the post and grabbed Waylon’s own tool belt from a hook and held it out to him. Waylon clutched it, feeling it’s familiarity and thought sadly that this was his only comfort now.

\---

Waylon worked without setting a tool down, but every time he picked a new one up, Gluskin would question every time what it was for. Waylon was exhausted, emotionally, mentally and physically and hadn’t meant to but spun from his crouched position by the wheels and narrowed his eyes at the much larger man. “Would you rather have me narrate the whole goddman thing!?”

Gluskin didn’t react to the outburst but simply raised an eyebrow as he played his thumbs over his lips. Waylon shook his head disbelief at himself, he knew what the man might be capable of and sighed. “Sorry… I’m just… on edge.” Gluskin shifted his postion and crouched beside Waylon, watching Waylon’s hands, and quickly stealing a glance from Waylon’s eyes. Waylon felt a flutter in his stomach when those ghostly eyes set on his.

Waylon stared for a moment, mostly at the man’s scars, but got back to his work and explained as he went. Soon enough, the man, Gluskin was silently watching as Waylon started his work again, and in no time, Waylon felt like all his worries drifted as he talked about the car and its mechanics, what was wrong with it, what he needed, to which Gluskin would scramble around and hand him the things Waylon needed in a hurry.

In an odd sense, Waylon was glad Gluskin was there, and to break the streak of his own voice, Waylon wiped his hands clean on his pants and leaned against the vehicle for a short break. “Sorry… I never got your name” Gluskin returned from grabbing another tool and sat beside Waylon on the car.

“Eddie” he held out his hand and Waylon grasped it in a handshake, but the man, Eddie, turned it over and kissed his knuckles. Waylon felt a strange blush rise in his cheeks, it was mostly out of surprise to the gesture, considering all that was said and done in the past few time he did have contact with his man. “O-oh… uhm, Waylon. Waylon’s mine.” Eddie returned Waylon’s hand and winked to him. “Pleasure, Waylon.”

Waylon wished they meant in any other circumstance, before this, before the cage, before anything else, Waylon thought he might have actually enjoyed the man’s company, but the reality soon returned as the silence became too long and he scrambled to his feet, going over the car with his eyes again, figuring out what to work on next, but unable to shake the feeling that Eddie hadn’t left his pale blue eyes from Waylon’s form, feeling like he was back in the cages with the dogs.

They continued on like this for many hours, Waylon was unsure how many passed, only aware that it was now night. Waylon would narrate his works, Eddie on the occasion would ask a question, and to Waylon’s delight, it was filled with genuine curiosity rather than authority and suspicion and Waylon would explain with enthusiasm and passion.

Every once and a while, Waylon would sneak a glance over to Eddie, at times thinking if Eddie was a prisoner himself, why he was in the cages in the first place, and it shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, but Waylon often found Eddie already staring, but his cold eyes had changed, something had lit inside them as they spectated the smaller male with interest, with a sort of amusement. This would cause another strange blush to flush out his chest and slowly creep to his cheeks, but Waylon was quick to brush it off and return to his work.

 

Waylon was so enveloped in his work when he stepped back from the vehicle, running a hand through his blonde locks as he tried to skim over any other major problems with the vehicle, which were almost gone.

He sighed and held his hands in his hair. He turned over to where Eddie sat watching from a distance, silent, and his blue eyes growing heavy. Waylon gave him a tired smile and Eddie half chuckled to the sight of the smaller male, looking worn out, messy, but still a spark of excitement lingered from the frail form as he was doing what he did best.

None of them realised morning had come when Blaire tore the flaps of the tent open and a searing light from the sun rising had made them narrow their eyes from the exposure. They both tried to cover their eyes until they were all aware of who was at the doorway when Blaire clasped his hands together.

“How’s the Walrider doing then?” Blaire’s voice echoed through the tent, too loud for the two who were almost in complete silence for the twenty four hours practically. Eddie visibly winced to the sound of Blaire’s voice, which gained him a glare, but Waylon stood frozen, all the pleasant excitement drained out and was replaced by fear.

“T-the Walrider?” Waylon dared to hum out in response. Blaire shifted his glaring eyes from Eddie to Waylon and walked with heavy strides. “The car you idiot” was his only indication of what he was addressing before he made his way past Waylon to the unfinished project.

Waylon felt his palms go sweaty, or sweatier from before, and didn’t want to tell the man that he didn’t finish his work. But Waylon mustered some form of courage and began babbling through trembling lips. “I’ve got most of it fixed up, just a few minor key parts that still need—”

“You got _most_ of it fixed up?” Blaire cut Waylon off with a mocking tone. Waylon now wished he hadn’t opened his mouth at all when Blaire’s condescending eyes set on him. Waylon shrank under Blaire’s gaze and rubbed at his arm with a dirty, greased paw.

The only real warning before Blaire gave Waylon a hard backhanded was an annoyed sigh. Waylon went tumbling and he could hear a shuffling of feet and saw that Eddie had stood at the action, his eyes fiery and body tense.

Waylon hoped it was because through the nights they may have made some form of friendly relationship from the cages to here. Waylon had some hope that maybe Eddie would defend him, but it was wishful thinking when he heard Blaire hiss in a breath and pinch the bridge of his nose. Eddie simply stood unmoving from his position, still his body tense, but he wasn’t Waylon’s knight in shining armour.

Waylon felt a shock go through his body when he heard Blaire fumble with his belt and approach Waylon who was crouched down from the backhand. He trembled at the thought from before, when Blaire had him tight in his grasp, despite it being almost a whole day ago, Waylon felt it much too fresh and shivered on the ground as Blaire towered over Waylon, pulling his pants apart the slightest, obvious that he’d make Waylon do the rest.

Blaire pricked an eyebrow up and challenged Waylon’s reluctance as he just stared through bleary eyes, hesitating. “Or would you rather me get your friend in here?” Waylon’s breath hitched at Blaire’s threatening words and grabbed at the hem of Blaire’s pants. Waylon could feel tears sting at his eyes, but was reminded to keep them tucked away.

Shame and disgust had convulsed through his entire body, reminding him that the man he may have befriended was only a few feet away watching, he felt his gut wrench when he pulled Blaire’s dick out, half hard, and Waylon didn’t want to know what thoughts could have excited him.

Waylon hitched in a breath and opened his mouth the slightest. He was ready to gag when the thick hardening flesh twitched in his mouth. Waylon choked down a sob and sounded like a groan as he did so, moving his head forward to take the full length of Blaire. Waylon wanted to avoid touching the eager flesh in his mouth as much as possible, but he knew this would only infuriate Blaire more, and it was like Blaire was reading his mind when he grabbed a tight fistful of Waylon’s dishevelled hair.

Waylon whimpered at the pain, but despite the shame, the disgust, the tears rolling down his cheeks, he tightened his lips around Blaire’s cock and pushed his tongue against the bottom of Blaire’s shaft, moving his head forward, letting it slide and lubricate from his saliva, moving out so only the tip would remain in his mouth.

Waylon continued like this for a good few minutes until Blaire grasped his head from both sides and shoved Waylon forward, making Waylon gag violently. Waylon pushed himself away and began to cough, feeling the pain sear through the back of his tender throat from where Blaire’s head struck. Waylon whimpered and sobbed and coughed on the floor, wiping the excess saliva from the corner’s of his lips. Waylon didn’t think things could get much worse from here.

Through the distant sounds of his own heaving, he heard Blaire fix himself back inside his pants and curse. “Fuck, you’re useless aren’t you. Alright. Get his buddy in here” Blaire had called out in an exasperated tone.

Waylon looked around wildly, first to Blaire with pleading eyes, to which he didn’t offer Waylon a second glance, then to Eddie who rang out to another variant to get Miles. Waylon had pleaded with his eyes, words escaping him as he was too distraught to even think to what to say. He wanted to beg to Blaire, but was reminded that last time he had done so, his friend lost two fingers, but now he feared his friend would lose much more at Waylon’s failure.

It wasn’t long until Miles was kicking and screaming through the entry and strapped back in that chair. Waylon darted his eyes back and forth, from Blaire who looked fixated on making another one of his brown drinks, to Eddie who watched from the darkness solemnly, to Miles, who lurched and heaved from the confines.

A hum was becoming louder and louder in Waylon’s mind, or so what he thought as panic coursed through his body. The screaming, the bodies moving about, everything was becoming all too much for Waylon and reminded him of worse days, the days when the Horde came and Lisa and his children were taken from him forever.

“ _ **PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T HURT HIM!**_ ” was all Waylon could manage, he couldn’t bargain anymore he knew that, he knew Blaire deemed him worthless, and all Waylon could do now was beg.

Blaire barely took noticed to Waylon’s scream and knocked back his drink, quick to fill another and approached Waylon. He crouched to Waylon’s level and with that dark look in his eye, he pointed with the same finger he held onto his drink with. “It’s you.” Then pointed to Miles without glancing at him. “Or him”

Waylon new he couldn’t choose, he valued his own life, but also thought he wasn’t worth living. Waylon sobbed and heaved, sinking his shoulders. “….me…” it was a faint whisper but Miles had heard it and he froze in the chair, staring wide eyed at his friend. “Waylon don’t be stupid—” Miles tried comforting his friend, but Waylon wouldn’t have any of it, he was so sick and tired just surviving, he was so tired to live another day only just to suffer. So he screamed through his friends words, ready to give up. “ _ME!_ ”

Blaire kissed his teeth and swallowed his second drink whole. He stood and nodded. “Alright then. Rick.” The faux doctor paused for a second from Miles and approached Waylon, buzzing the saw in his hand a few times. Miles kicked and screamed, but all the sound was lulled out from Waylon’s frightened mind as he sat, defeated on the dirt.

Until another voice rang out. That strange, sickly sweet voice had boomed from the noises. “I’ll take him” In that moment everyone stood still. Blaire turned to look at the man who said it. He sneered at the sight of Eddie, eyes sick with worry, he’d taken a step forward, it seemed from the moment that Trager was approaching Waylon.

Blaire had felt bitter toward the larger male, sucking on his teeth and moving his tongue over them, he could practically taste it on his tongue. He side glanced to Waylon and had a thought in his mind.

Waylon picked his gaze from the ground and turned to look at Eddie, from the moment he spoke out to when Blaire had exchanged a distasteful gaze, he could see Eddie’s muscular form tensing under Blaire’s eyes. It was obvious to Waylon now that Eddie butted heads with Blaire, there was some sort of authority to Eddie over Blaire, and Blaire knew it.

This seemingly long pause was only interrupted when Blaire had finally accepted Eddie’s request. “Alright. Fine. But here’s the deal” Blaire walked up to Eddie, trying to staunch him out, but failing miserably as the mere size of Eddie completely out did Blaire, even with this intoxicating air of confidence about the man.

Eddie stared with disdained eyes as Blaire made his wager. “You have to train him, making him a better breeder. And if you end up fucking him to death, then it’s you who’s gonna be in that chair. Clear?”

Eddie didn’t falter under the threat, but sneered in response. “perfectly” he growled. Waylon darted his eyes back and forth from Eddie, to Blaire, then quickly to Miles who watched his friend with worry.

Miles was shaking his head, he knew Eddie was bad news from the horror stories Walker had told him, and Miles had this horrible gut feeling churning in him. Waylon at the sight of his frightened friend could feel his breath cutting short until he heard Eddie’s heavy footfalls approach him.

Waylon looked around wildly and second guessed the friendly demeanour Eddie had as he grabbed at the shackles and clenched them on Waylon’s wrist forcefully. Waylon hissed at the pain and yelped as he was practically dragged to his feet. Before he exit the tent in tow from Eddie, he shared one last glance to Miles, and his stomach had flipped when Miles worried gaze didn’t falter.

Waylon knew there was something Miles knew about this man that he didn’t, in an odd way, Waylon didn’t want to know, but the words that rang through Waylon’s head as they approached another large tent were haunting him. _If you end up fucking him to death…_


	5. Don't You Cry No More.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> juicy (also just a warning here now, if you're squeamish or sensitive to non-con stuff i would suggest to stop here)

Eddie practically yanked on the chains, leading him away like Waylon was one of his dogs, a beast for his consumption. Waylon felt panic rise into his chest, his body hair inside his clothing feeling too irritating as they approached another large tent, not as big as Blaire’s, but enough to tell Waylon that Eddie may not have been someone he wanted to fuck with, or even befriend for that matter.

Things flashed behind his eyes when he remembered Eddie in the cage, intoxicated, friendly even when they working on the car, _The Walrider_ together. That all too friendly demeanour of Eddie’s was burning away too fast for Waylon’s liking and he struggled to keep up with Eddie’s heavy strides.

Eddie tore the tent flaps open and practically tossed Waylon inside, quickly closing the flaps and tying them shut. Eddie paced around the tent and Waylon watched him with careful eyes, but as he did, he noticed Eddie’s establishment looked somehow… cleaner than Blaire’s, as if Eddie actually had access to cleaning supplies.

The frail blonde’s attention was quickly averted when Eddie yanked on the chain again, urging him closer to a corner with a grunt. Waylon stumbled closer and watching as the larger male unscrewed a bolt in the floor, then placing the bolt back into the same spot with a link in the chain wedged in it.

Waylon knew what it was for, to keep him here, with no means of escape. Waylon felt his chest tighten at the sight, watching as Eddie looked all too familiar with the mechanics of it all and Blaire’s words rang in his head in an unhealthy loop _if you end up fucking him to death. Ifyouendupfuckinghimtodeathifyouendupfuckinghimto--_.

The frantic loop was only broken when Eddie sliced through it with a cold voice. “Sorry about this darling, but would you mind stripping” Waylon thought he couldn’t stand anymore still until his blood ran cold and almost felt his heart freeze mid beat. Eddie walked past him toward a large bucket like tub as he pumped water into it with an old mechanism you often found on old western movies.

Waylon watched him through wide brown eyes, hoping he really didn’t hear what Eddie had asked. Once Eddie swirled his hand in the water, he noticed he hadn’t heard any shift in clothing and side glanced over to the small man with a cold stare. “I can’t have you in hear smelling like one of those mutts. Now please” Eddie urged his hand out, holding it palm up as he encouraged, albeit poorly, for Waylon to do as he said.

Once Eddie knew the blonde had no inclination of doing as he was told, he sighed gravely and hunched his shoulders. Although his defeated look didn’t last long as he sat up straight against the makeshift tub and eyed the feeble male with a calculating stare before it soon dissipated into anger. “ _Now!_ ” his voice boomed like thunder through the silence.

Waylon flinched and fumbled his hands over his body, shaking violent as he shifted out of his shirt, letting it tangle with the chains before he moved on to his pants, hesitating for a moment before he let them drop to his ankles. Waylon tensed his shoulders, cupping his hands to his privates and buckled his knees tight together.

Waylon hadn’t noticed the cold before, but being bare in front of the man he could have maybe once called him friend was beginning to feel like he may as well be stark naked in the middle of the wastes in the dead of night.

Waylon didn’t look up as he watched his shirt on the chains, but he could feel the anger from before dissipate from Eddie as he saw out of the corner of his eyes. Eddie held his palm out again, curling his fingers and with the other hand played with the water again.

Waylon did as he was commanded again and took careful steps towards the burly man awaiting him. Once he was close enough, Eddie curled his urging hand over one of Waylon’s, Waylon flinched at the touch, feeling Eddie came too close to touching his groin as he pulled Waylon gently forward, helping him in the tub.

Waylon was a bit glad Eddie hadn’t looked up from the tub as he had to spread his leg over the edge, saving him some kind of embarrassment. However, he didn’t save any grace as his toes touched the freezing water and jerked back, loosing balance and instinctively grabbed for Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie’s hands were quick on Waylon’s hips, holding him steady as Waylon gained his balance, however, it left the small male completely exposed to Eddie in full frontal view. Waylon didn’t want to, but his eyes darted to the male holding him and saw Eddie staring directly to his privates.

Eddie lingered his stare and pulled a frown, obvious he didn’t like what he saw and pushed Waylon’s hips, directing him into the water.

Waylon shivered as he sank lower and lower into the water, his stomach clenching as the cool liquid felt like it was pressing him into the back of the tub. He kept his eyes upward, praying to any god that was there that it’d be over soon.

Unfortunately, no one answered his prayers as Eddie began his awkward cleaning. He rubbed at Waylon’s skin with a cloth, wiping away grease and dirt marks made from days before. Eddie watched with half lidded eyes, entranced as the dirt washed away with ease.

For a second, Waylon had thought Eddie wouldn’t stop climbing the cloth from his leg, but sighed when it stopped just beneath his groin from inside of his thigh. “A mechanic who doesn’t like baths eh?” Eddie’s voice returned to that amicable man he properly met in Blaire’s tent. Waylon dared a glance to Eddie but he seemed to focus on his work against Waylon’s skin to notice the stare.

Waylon tried his hardest to drift his mind elsewhere as the larger male washed him, even thinking back to _The Walrider_ , and what still needed to be done to the vehicle. Thankfully, his thoughts were cut short when Eddie leaned back, huffing as he trailed his eyes around Waylon’s body, inspecting if he missed any spots.

Waylon let out a silent sigh of relief as the larger male seemed pleased with his work, standing to walk over to a small bench just across from them. Waylon had hoped the man was getting him more clothes, but that hope was soon turned to fear as Eddie picked open a straight razor, looking at it carefully and testing the sharpness of the blade on a few of his own arm hairs.

Waylon felt his heart pang against his chest as he followed Eddie with large eyes, now feeling the water almost too cold as he tried shifting, letting the water splash out a bit. Eddie glanced over and kissed his teeth to Waylon’s frantics.

Eddie stripped his outer most clothing, thudding his heavy leather jacket and armour onto the rugged table by the bench, then unstrapping his groin protection, then lastly his boots, leaving him in an off white three quarter sleeve shirt, dark pants and bare feet.

Waylon tore his eyes from the towering male into the water as it still moved from Waylon’s motions, trying to will away the thought that maybe Eddie didn’t feel all that friendly anymore and might actually just slit his throat here and now.

But that never came, instead, Waylon found it peculiar as Eddie entered the tub himself, it wasn’t all that big of a tub either as Waylon was pushed more against the back as Eddie sat himself in, unflinching from the freezing temperature of the water. He hoisted one of Waylon’s legs over his shoulder, and the other to curl around his own waist.

Waylon felt his face go beat red as the position felt all too provocative, trying to shift so he didn’t feel so exposed to the male. Eddie let out a small chuckled from Waylon’s shyness and slid the blade smoothly against Waylon’s skin. Waylon wanted to flinch at the cool metal but restrained as it would have meant dire consequences, even if it was one little knick, he figured it was wise not to enrage the burly man.

Eddie had finished Waylon’s first leg easily, quickly moving on to the second. Waylon had did his best to relax the entire time until Eddie yanked him closer from the hips to him, practically making their bodies flush against each other, and oh boy, was Waylon getting even more red by the second.

Waylon felt incredibly tiny being sized up to Eddie, but even worse yet, because his legs were practically wrapped around Eddie as they sat so close to each other, Eddie travelling his eyes carefully against Waylon’s skin as the blade followed just as equally so.

Waylon felt panic yet again when Eddie pushed his torso down a bit so he could begin on Waylon’s unkempt trail of hair leading from his belly button to his pubic area. Waylon kept his eyes on the ceiling again but only looked to Eddie when he grunted with disapproval as the blade approached Waylon’s penis.

Eddie shared Waylon’s glance, looking through cold frosty eyes, but soon returned to their work. Waylon tried to distract himself by attempting to count the stitching holes in the roof of the tent as the sun shone through blindingly, almost looking like an alien spaceship was flying over head, contrast to the grim lighting of the interior.

Waylon was jerked back to Eddie as full attention when he easily tore the remainder of Waylon’s shirt from the chains, tossing it out of the tub with a sloppy wet sound on the floor and resumed downward. Now Eddie pulled at the skin around Waylon’s crotch, making the blonde visibly wince from the rough touch of the man handling him. butterflies flew in a storm in Waylon’s stomach as he contemplated death or maiming right there, but something odd happened instead.

Eddie ran his hand through the now smooth parts of Waylon’s flesh, feeling the freshly shave skin from the corner of where Waylon’s groin met his upper thigh, travelling it upwards to cup Waylon’s chest.

Waylon kept his eyes on the ceiling, his lips trembling as those hands felt all too greedy. Waylon held back a yelp as they kept moving upward, to his collarbone, and past, hooking around his neck, and feeling Eddie’s body shift in the tub, pressing himself closer in between Waylon’s legs.

Eddie yanked Waylon’s neck so he could stare directly into his eyes. Waylon creased his eyebrows when he saw a strange concern in Eddie’s eyes. “You’re shivering darling! Are you cold?” Waylon couldn’t form any words from the question, but instead pleaded with his eyes at Eddie. The only sound coming out of Waylon’s shaky lips were pitiful sobs from the terror of everything.

Eddie kissed his teeth at that and leaned back just far enough to crack a hard hand across Waylon’s cheek, splitting his lip in the process and wetting the ground about him from the sudden movements.

“Ungrateful _Slut_! I saved you from my dogs. I saved you from Blaire, I won’t let him have you… not again…” Eddie’s words were hostile, they were angry, and worse yet, they were too full of meaning.

But Eddie’s next actions were what scared him the most. Waylon suspected something strange from the man early on, the way he had him pressed against the cage before he escorted him to Blaire’s tent, the way he talked so easily to him when Eddie himself was incapacitated, the wink, the way Eddie had actually indulged Waylon with curiosity about the mechanics of the vehicle. But now it all felt too overwhelming.

Eddie practically lodged himself between Waylon’s legs, pressing something hard against Waylon’s groin, and Waylon could already guess what it was, the way Eddie reached for Waylon’s face, smoothing his hand over the smaller males lips with his thumb. The way his eyes looked at him with such lust, with such hunger, with such _need_.

And it was within seconds that Eddie was devouring Waylon’s pursed lips hungrily. Eddie could even taste the blood he had caused to trickle out of Waylon’s mouth and engorged in it. Eddie could feel Waylon’s resistance, and pressed his tongue into Waylon’s mouth, tasting all Waylon had to offer, but as soon as he realised Waylon wasn’t at all giving him what he wanted, he snaked a tight hand around Waylon’s throat.

Waylon gasped, making his mouth open wider and Eddie took the opportunity to move himself deeper into Waylon, pushing his tongue hard against Waylon’s, climbing practically on top of Waylon in the tub, the water spilling out the sides harshly as he did so.

Waylon tried to let out small moan of struggle but was muffled into Eddie, making it sound more like pleasure which egged Eddie on even more so. Eddie sighed at the sound, and ground his hips into Waylon. Waylon jerked from the motion, trying to push Eddie away, but was too overpowered, thinking Eddie hadn’t even noticed Waylon’s feeble attempts at rebelling the moment.

Waylon wanted to cry out for help if Eddie let him have air, but what felt even worse for him was that… he enjoyed it… well enjoyed was an overstatement. He missed this, the simple action of kissing with such passion, he missed being able to kiss Lisa like this. But all thoughts of Lisa were now perverted by this man who was taking everything from Waylon, especially his dignity as Waylon let out another small moan, and to Waylon’s own disgust, it was pleasure this time as his half hard erection rubbed against Eddie’s already _very_ hard erection.

Eddie had taken notice of Waylon’s provoked arousal and grinned against the kiss. With his other hand loosening his grip on Waylon’s throat, rubbing his thumb against the adam’s apple, he rubbed his other down Waylon’s side, feeling the now smooth flesh, curling his fingers against his waist, then travelling behind Waylon, groping painfully at Waylon’s ass cheek and pulling to spread Waylon apart until Waylon realised what the man wanted more and jerked away, now inspired with more strength before, trying to push Eddie away.

Eddie was quick to grab Waylon by the throat again, making sure to keep him in place, but his eyes had veiled something different as they looked sickeningly adorning, filled with empathy toward the smaller male. “You’re right darling… it’s much too early for that isn’t it? I bet you’re hungry first and foremost.”

Waylon froze, he couldn’t count how many personality changes this man could go through in the span of minutes. Eddie leaned back in the tub, one arm hanging over the edge of the tub as the other propped itself on the ledge, fingers rubbing at his lips as he stared with calculating eyes at Waylon.

Waylon stayed frozen from his position prior. Suddenly Eddie sat from the tubbing, stripping from his now soaked clothing and grabbed for garments nearby, dark brown pants, a rugged tank top, pulling them over his head and legs. He held up a blanket sort of thing to Waylon for him to be wrapped up in. Waylon knew he shouldn’t hesitate and sat up in the tub, cupping his hand once again over his privates, now a bit awkward that his dick was half hard, and Waylon could feel the disgust churn in his gut as he approached Eddie shivering.

Eddie wrapped the small blonde with large arms, holding him close to his chest as he breathed through the small half wet tufts of hair. The purpose was to warm the frail man up, even going to the extent of rubbing his arms to promote heat, and although Waylon didn’t want to admit, he had to be grateful for it, despite it feeling like a parody of a loving touch. Eddie however, despite it doing exactly that, didn’t want to let go for the sole reason that Waylon was now his possession, and his alone.

\---

After Eddie had warmed Waylon up enough, he dismally parted from Waylon, letting his hand linger on the smaller males back, rubbing it just at the base of his spine. It made Waylon’s body tingle, albeit not in a good way as he feared what was to come.

Waylon stood in place watching Eddie with wide eyes as he adjusted the chain, pulling it softly so Waylon came closer to the bolt, obviously indicating Eddie was leaving and he didn’t want the frail mechanic searching about room, in any case his nifty hands found any means of escape. Eddie shoved the bolt back in place and wrapped his arms about Waylon yet again, Waylon could only stand in place as this large predator surrounded him, there wasn’t much he could do at this point.

Eddie buried his face in the blonde hair as it slowly dried and sighed. “I knew you would come eventually… the moment I laid eyes on you… the moment you spoke to me, touched me” It would have been a sweet moment, but considering the circumstance, Waylon stood rigid in the man’s grasp, fearing the larger male’s intentions as it was put on display only moments ago.

Luckily, Eddie parted before he could feel Waylon’s body shiver from the thoughts. The larger male didn’t take a second glance back before he exit the tent, leaving Waylon in the near darkness of the tent.

Waylon gathered his nerves and looked around the tent, he stood in the near middle, staring out towards the entrance. To his left was the tub, still a small amount of water in the base of it, and Waylon tried to eye where Eddie would have put the straight razor, thinking that he could use that as a weapon, but couldn’t spot it. He spun on his heels, taking a better look of the place and planning.

He turned around to see a stage like build that led up to a bachelor bedroom, a large bed was at the centre with few furnishing. Waylon moved a step closer but was only limited to a few inches before he felt the straining of the chain. He kissed his teeth and whipped his head around back to the bolt.

Waylon was desperate enough to just try and yank it out of the ground, seeing how Eddie did it easy enough, and he was a mechanic for Christ sakes, nuts and bolts were his specialty. But as he approached he bolt, gripping the assisted looped end, he noticed the small key hole at the bottom. Waylon sighed and straightened himself, tightening the blanket around his body as the cold from the shadows started to creep up again.

It felt too soon when Eddie returned, tearing the tent flaps open to flood the insides with bright searing light. Waylon winced at the sudden blindness, but quickly pulled his face back into alert. Eddie waltzed to the rugged table, placing to metal plates filled with steaming masses. Waylon gulped, watching the steam roll off of what was on the plate, looking too much like meat as those images of Trager tearing a human body apart and that bearded horror of a man picking the pieces up to drop them in his saucepan.

Eddie sat at the table, at first not noticing the blonde’s negligence, but pricking his eyes up to the small male, urging him to sit with one hand. “Don’t worry, it’s dog” Eddie had rung out in the intense silence, his voice bitter from the words.

Eddie knew what Waylon suspected, guessing that maybe he caught first hand glimpse of the camp’s cook, but thankfully Frank never wanted to get on Eddie’s bad side, no matter how far gone into the slow decent of psychoticism he was, Frank knew Eddie was no man to fuck with.

The chain allowed Waylon to at least make it to the table, he pulled the chair out awkwardly and sat, letting his hands rest in his lap as he couldn’t do much with them considering they were still chained.

Eddie had noticed the restraint in movements and crouched by Waylon’s side, he softly grasped the smaller males wrists, thinking if they were any smaller, he could have almost slipped through them with ease. Waylon watched carefully as Eddie plucked a small set of keys from his pocket, trying to decipher which one would be used for the bolt, and Eddie had noticed immediately the blonde eyeing the keys with such desperation.

The large scarred male tightened his grip on Waylon’s wrist, almost painfully as he kept his focus on the shackles. “You aren’t going to leave me darling?” Waylon nearly flinched at the words, it wasn’t exactly a question, but more of a reminder to those who did try to escape this man’s hunt, and Waylon was reminded of those barking mutts in the cages. Waylon shook his head vigorously and Eddie smiled blissfully at that, satisfied at the frail males answer.

Eddie broke one of the shackles off with ease, making Waylon flinch and something churn in his gut with the mere strength of this man. Waylon wondered if he could have done it himself but second guessed as he looked to his hands, the skin tight against his bones and clenched them.

Eddie clamped the shackle around Waylon’s ankle and smoothed his hand from the base of his calve, sliding it upward, underneath the blanket to the top of Waylon’s thigh as he stood. Waylon wanted to shiver against the touch but restrained himself as it might encourage the male with a double meaning.

“Good” Eddie cooed, smiling lazy to Waylon before he took his seat again. They sat in silence as Eddie began eating, Waylon waited to wonder if it was safe, keeping his eyes fixated on his own plate, but Waylon’s stomach was clenching at the sight, begging for it to be fed and within seconds he was digging into his meal with an old fork.

Waylon devoured half the plate in seconds, true enough the circumstances were dire, but he hadn’t remembered the last time he had a full plate in front of him. Waylon could hear Eddie kiss his teeth and Waylon paused mid bite, trying to chew the remnants in his mouth as he met Eddie’s scolding stare.

Eddie reached over, wiping a dribble of sauce from the meat at Waylon’s mouth. “Ravenous aren’t we?” it was mostly to himself, but as Eddie’s thumb lingered at the corner of Waylon’s mouth, Waylon felt his heart stop. He choked down the food in his mouth, hunching over his plate, frightened as Eddie’s turned from that friendly soft gaze to a much more darker, hungrier stare.

It happened so fast, Waylon could barely comprehend the speed of the larger man, as he lunged forward, engulfing his mouth over his, mulling his lips against Waylon’s. Waylon winced at the fresh pain in his split lip, feeling the jagged scarring on Eddie’s lip scrape against his own.

Luckily for Waylon Eddie’s eyes were closed so he couldn’t see the fear in Waylon’s eyes. But Eddie was unrelenting, regardless if Waylon reciprocated the kiss. He pushed Waylon’s chair out, leaning the chair back with his force as he deepened the moment, sliding his hands under the blanket Waylon was wrapped in.

Waylon wanted to whimper, but reminded himself last time he tried rebelling it had excited Eddie even more. Eddie only broke apart to crouch by Waylon’s side, unshackling his ankle and scooped him up. Waylon felt his world spin as Eddie walked them towards the bed Waylon had eyed earlier and panic was searing through his body.

Eddie practically dropped Waylon on the bed, and the blonde bounced a couple of times before he tried scrambling in any kind of direction from Eddie, feeling his flight or fight response scream through his mind, disregarding if it was a good idea to show fear or not.

Unfortunately, Eddie was quickly over top of the smaller male, heaving breaths as he snapped Waylon’s hands above his head and stared deep into Waylon’s honey brown eyes with such ferocity.

They stayed like this for a long moment, Eddie heaving, his hot breath curling over Waylon’s own still shivering bare body. Eddie travelling his cold blue eyes down Waylon’s form, then to stop and nestle back into the scared blondes face. His hands slowly sliding to entwine his fingers with Waylon’s. Eddie pressed his legs further up Waylon’s thigh, moving them apart slightly as he climbed over top of him and Waylon felt that all too familiar chill around his wrists again.

_Click_. Waylon looked up to see his hands were shackled to the headboard of the bed and met Eddie’s dark gaze with fright. Eddie winked, much like he had the day they set eyes on each other, full of mischief as it was followed by a smile equally so. “So you behave…” was all Eddie said before stripping his tank top, tossing it about the ground, exposing a well built body that only meant trouble for Waylon.

Waylon’s body heaved for breaths as panic started to tighten his chest, watching as the larger male prepared for strenuous activities, cracking his neck before he was back on top of Waylon, sucking at Waylon’s soft sensitive flesh on his neck, biting down as he travelled to Waylon’s shoulder. Waylon cried out in pain, swearing that Eddie had drawn blood, and as Eddie sat back up, he was right. Blood lingered on Eddie’s lips as he looked coldly to Waylon “A good girl doesn’t raise their voice”.

Waylon whimpered, feeling hot tears sting at his eyes before they trickled down the side of his cheeks, looking up to the ceiling, trying to keep his attention elsewhere as the large male returned to his previous suckling and biting against his body. However, Waylon let out another cry when the larger male painfully gripped at Waylon’s waist, grazing his blunt nails across the soft flesh.

This time, Eddie didn’t give warning as a strong firm hand snatched Waylon’s throat and squeezed. “Please darling… keep quiet” Eddie’s eyes were, soft, endearing, much like the night they had spent together just talking, but his grip on Waylon’s life line said otherwise.

Waylon pleaded with his eyes, crying, trying to control his breathing underneath the dangerous man who had him pinned. Eddie gave a look of pity and loosened his grip only to lower himself closer to Waylon. Waylon flinched when he could feel Eddie’s rough hands slide down his side, to in between his legs. Waylon thrashed about only for Eddie to press his body harder against him, making it very evident the stiff mass pressing against his leg, indicating he was already excited by it all.

Eddie palmed Waylon’s placid penis, and Waylon felt more tears stream from his face. Eddie cooed in Waylon’s ear with lust “Oh.. darling. You’re going to be beautiful when you’re full…” Eddie only moved away to suck on one of his fingers, fully coated it in his saliva to the brim as he moved back closer, this time no preparation for what awaited Waylon as he pressed the finger against Waylon’s tight entrance.

Waylon shook his head under Eddie and cried out again “PLEASE--!” Eddie tightened his grip and hissed in Waylon’s ear with ferocity “If you’re going to cry out, cry out my name. There’s nothing worse than a whore begging for it.”

Waylon felt disgusted as he nodded solemnly, choking back sobs as he waited for Eddie’s finger to breach his entrance. Waylon groaned at the fresh pain, shutting his eyes tight as it made it’s way slowly inside.

Eddie sighed with delight at the sensation, shivering at the feeling of his finger slicking it’s way inside of Waylon. Without much further ado, he began pumping slowly, then started a faster, rougher rhythm, Waylon could only let out a few grunts at the sensation, feeling no pleasure in it at all, but shot his eyes open as Eddie protruded another finger, curling them inside.

Waylon cried out, but not the way he wanted to. He cried out in pleasure at the feeling, feeling the tears slowly drift away and shame take over his body as his chest became flushed, reaching to his cheeks and to his ears as Eddie’s relentless pumping continued, moving his fingers deeper.

Eddie pulled back enough to watch the smaller male writhe underneath him, realising he didn’t need his body to press him against the mattress but watched as the frail blonde did it himself, arching his back, not exactly trying to get away from Eddie anymore, but rather… enjoying it.

Eddie grinned at the sight, overjoyed at the pleasure he was giving Waylon, but almost forget his own waiting erection as he watched the blonde’s as it twitched in anticipation. Eddie growled, biting his lip, he let go of Waylon’s throat and wrapped his hand around the blonde’s shaft, pumping it, feeling it get harder and harder.

Waylon kept his eyes shut, he didn’t want to admit to Eddie with his eyes that he was gaining some twisted pleasure from it, but he failed himself as he dared a glance to the larger male who pleasured him shamefully.

Eddie watched as the frail males gaze met his, eyes half lidded and so sweet and innocent looking as the blush emphasized it. Eddie grunted, and in one sweep, he spun the small onto his stomach, pulling his hips up so his ass was sticking out in the air for open season. Eddie fumbled with the lacing of his pants and let his erection prod out into the open.

He first leaned against Waylon, watching as the male twitch and shift under him as he pressed himself against the entrance. Waylon shut his eyes tight, he could feel how large Eddie was just by the head of his penis itself, but it felt even worse when it made it’s way uneasily inside of Waylon.

Waylon cried out in pain, but had to stifle it, moaning into the bedding as Eddie made his way slowly inside of him. It was gruelling, but finally, Eddie was all the way inside, to his hilt, feeling Waylon tighten around him made him sigh with a huff.

Eddie had given Waylon time to adjust, but to Waylon it didn’t feel quite long enough as Eddie began thrusting, slapping his hips against Waylon’s back side with a wet sound as both males began to sweat. Waylon yelped at each thrust, letting out the most provocative of sounds as it egged Eddie on even more.

Eddie grabbed a hand full of Waylon’s hair and yanked him up so his back was flush against Eddie’s front side, thrusting violently as Waylon could only loll his head back to rest against Eddie’s chest. It was a pitiful sight, but Eddie enjoyed it fully.

Waylon tried to stifle his cries, but he couldn’t anymore, he needed some form of release from the pain and yelped even louder, until that hiss came back from Eddie’s through, a low growl, a rumble against Waylon’s back “remember darling what I told you”.

Waylon nodded weakly as Eddie kept thrusting. Waylon could actually feel Eddie getting bigger inside him, feeling he was near release and Waylon just wanted it over and done with, but in a shameful way, he didn’t.

Quickly, the images of Lisa flashed behind his eyes and he began tearing up again. The way the sun shone on her dark skin, the way it bounced off her curly hair. Waylon shut his eyes tight and cursed himself as he let his mouth drop open, letting the worse moans out.

Waylon felt Eddie’s breath roll over his shoulder from the sounds, feeling the vibration from his chest as he growled, and lastly, the sharp pain of teeth from Eddie as he bit into Waylon’s shoulder.

That was all Waylon could take and let out the most alluring of sounds “Ah—E-Eddie!” Eddie thrust twice as hard when he started to hear his name being called, making Waylon go over the edge as Eddie’s cock pushed inside of him with force, pressing against him, slotting in snuggly. Waylon moaned and cried more, feeling a heat bubble up in his lower abdomen.

“That’s it you little whore. Take it all!” Eddie hissed in Waylon’s ear. The large male forced Waylon’s head down, pressing it hard into the mattress as he gave few more harsh thrusts into Waylon. The blonde could feel the heat spill inside of him and even leak out from him.

Waylon gazed between his legs from his position and looked disgustedly at his own erection as he spurted his own seed onto the mattress. Then the images of Lisa came back and Waylon couldn’t help but feel so empty inside, despite Eddie’s mass filling him.

Eddie removed himself, stripping his pants, wiping himself clean and the mess Waylon had made, tossing it to the floor beside his shirt and pressed his body against Waylon, pulling him tight so the frail blonde’s back was flush against his heaving chest.

Eddie buried his face into Waylon’s mess of blonde locks and smiled, cooing to him, “That’s a good girl”.

Waylon felt himself shrinking into the larger male’s warmth as his large arms wrapped around Waylon’s sides. Waylon curled in on himself and wanted to cry. He felt his breaths become shaky and once he felt the steady rhythm of Eddie falling asleep, only then did he begin to cry silently.

All images behind his eyes kept going back to Lisa, skin glistening in the sun, going back to Miles, laughing by her side. Miles… Waylon felt sympathy leave for himself and had guessed Miles had it if not equally, then worse than what he had it.


End file.
